Meanwhile the Fenians passed the hours
In the hall of spears, at Almhuin’s towers;
The goblet crowned, with chessmen played,
Or gifts for gifts of love repaid,
When Caoilte rose and asked in grief,
“Ye spearmen, where is our gallant chief?
O, lost I dread is the Fenians’ boast—
Then who shall lead our bannered host?”
Bald Conan spoke—“A sweeter sound
Ne’er tingled on my ear;